


Tell me the Truth

by authordean



Series: 200AUchallenge [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 200AUchallenge, F/F, Murder, Murderer Jo, Therapist Charlie, Therapy, Threats of Violence, alternative universe, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:24:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4375337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authordean/pseuds/authordean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 19.     I’m a super villain and you’re a therapist I kidnapped because I need someone to talk to au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell me the Truth

Charlie crosses her legs as the last client for the day enters her office. It's a small office, with several plants and two nice chairs, a desk in the corner of the room.  A small blonde wearing a denim jacket in this scorching heat wave walks towards her. She shakes her hand, smiling at the women. She doesn't meet her gaze. Her handshake is loose, her nails are bitten down to a painful point. 

"Hi, I'm Charlie. Joanna I assume?"

"Jo." she grimaces, sitting down on the chair next to Charlie. Charlie pulls out her notebook; a small pad decorated in marvel and star wars stickers. Even her pen is shaped like a wand. It's a little unprofessional, but Charlie likes to think it relaxes people or at the very least breaks the ice.

Jo Harvelle is all ice.

"Jo, would you like to tell me a little bit about yourself?" She begins with an easy, relaxation question. Past of cognitive behavioral therapy is developing a relationship with the client. Trust is important to establish early. Most CBT fails due to a poor patient-client relationship. 

"Do you know why I picked you as a therapist?" Jo asks, looking down at her folded arms on her lap. "People said you were the best for complex people. And you're hot." Charlie blushes a little, stopping herself from smiling at the compliments. Praise generally comes from men. Married men there for marriage counselling. Not exactly flattering. 

"Thank you, Jo." She goes to write in the notepad about Jo's lack of eye contact and notice Jo tense. She's not going to make notes until afterwards if it makes her uncomfortable. She read in her medical file that she has no previous mental illness or issues with health. No doctor's appointment in years. Possible anxiety? It would explain the nervous expression, the frowning. Her client could be suffering with cramps or headaches.

"Anything I tell you, you can't repeat right?" Jo's hand slips into her jacket.

"Everything is confidential." Charlie says softly. Bad memories perhaps? Bad dreams?

Jo raises her head, finally making eye contact and grins. She pulls her hand out her pocket, clasping a knife between her fingers. It's a long knife, curved at the end and Charlie opens her mouth to scream. Jo holds the knife to her lips, shushing her. 

"Confession time. I've killed three people and I don't care if that becomes four today." She stands up, and Charlie presses herself into the back of the chair. _Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic._

"The thing is, it's horrible. You kill, you hide the body, you do it again. What's the point in that? I want someone to know what they got what was coming to them. Now, don't get me wrong, I know I'm a freak. You might tell me I didn't know what I was doing. I did. I killed people who deserved it." She pulls open her jacket, giving Charlie a look at the row of gleaming blades she has stashed in there. She pockets the knife she's holding and pulls out a smaller, thinner blade.

"First I killed the man who murdered my Father. And I cried. What does that tell you about my head, huh, Doc?" Charlie doesn't, can't, respond and she throws the knife. It lands firmly in the wall behind her. She lets out a pained sob. 

Charlie tries to remember how people get themselves out of these situations on TV. They talk to them? Or do some ridiculous moves that disarm the villain and throw them to the floor. She doesn't know martial arts and certainly couldn't move beyond fainting. 

"It tells you," Charlie keeps her voice as steady as she can, "that you felt guilty. That, that." She swallows and breaths out slowly, "You empathized with him because you wanted to empathize with your Father."

Jo smirks, "Next I killed a police officer who ignored my Father's case. Who let evidence slide. Crappy detective. Had a kid, you know. Little boy. "

"Did you cry?" She asks carefully, her hands shaking so badly that she has to tuck them under her knees.

"Yes. The third was my favorite. My Father's co-worker. He stood by and watched my Father die. I tied him up and made him watch as I killed his wife."

"You let him live?" Charlie voice is strained, her eyes are filled with tears she can't cry. Crying for her murder victims would gain no trust from her. 

"I had to live through it. Without my Father." She spits out the words bitterly. "Made sure he wouldn't tell anyone. Diagnosis?"

Charlie doesn't know what Jo wants her to say, but she has to say something. "You wanted someone to understand your pain. To feel what you feel. They deserve to understand how you-" She stops for a moment, "how your Mother felt?"

It's a long shot, but often people act violently because of a personal relationship. She may have known her Father, and loved him. That doesn't deserve this retaliation against those people. However, for her Mother, who she loves dearly- it is justified. Jo stiffens, her jaw clenched with anger.

She sits down facing Charlie, bringing her chair forward so they're partially touching at the knees. "You're good." Thank god, Charlie manages to breath out.

"Are you going to do it again?" She cannot bring herself to say murder, or kill. 

"I don't know." There are tears in her eyes and Charlie finds herself forgetting how dangerous she is. Nearly. She's so young, in her early twenties. Just a kid herself. She let the anger, the absolute fury, of what happened to her parents control her and hurt her. Charlie reaches out to her and takes her hand.

"Honestly?"

She shakes her head, "I don't want to."

"And that's your choice. You don't have to. Your Mother would understand."

Jo squeezes her hand slightly. "You can't tell anyone about this, right?"

"No." Charlie promise,smiling as calmly as she can.

"I'm leaving now." Her harsh tone is back. 

Charlie lets her go, believing that deep down, this little girl would have been a wonderful person. Gone to college, gotten a good job, had friends and a life. A girlfriend. If it had not been for her Father's death. Jo gets up, "I'm sorry."

She nods, "Me too. See you soon, Jo."

She walks out and closed the door behind her. Quietly, Charlie starts to sob. When she's sure she's alone, she's picks up the phone.

"Police. Yes, I'd like to report someone for murder."

* * *

 

It's not a week later, but Charlie has another appointment with Jo. No longer wearing a jacket, but a pale blue jumpsuit. She expected Jo to refuse her request for visiting. A man waves her through. She looks peaceful sat on the chair. With the help of a forensic psychiatrist in court, Jo got minimum security an several mental health treatment course; seeing a therapist weekly for one.

"Hello, Jo." Charlie says, sitting down across from her on the table. She reported the murders, and told the police Jo had 'confessed' to her and admitted her mistake. She mentioned nothing of the threats. The girl would never have hurt her.

"Thank you." Jo says immediately, "I should have done this a long time ago."

She tells Charlie about her new anger management treatment, the therapy for sleeping and behavior. She's allowed to get qualifications here, even start working again from prison in a few years under supervision if she shows significant improvement. It's unlikely she'll ever be released.

"My Mom visited last week."

"Did it go well?"

"She understood why I did it. We'll get there."

"I'm glad."

"Will you come back?" Jo asks, her eyes meeting Charlie's and hopeful. She's allowed to take her hand across the table.

"I'll see you next week." She promises. Truthfully this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Origionally posted to http://warriorcharlie.tumblr.com


End file.
